A journalist observes life in the far north.
I wanted to call you but it’s 3am in South Carolina so I am writing. I hope you have access to the Internet. I thought you might like to know what’s happening on Murphy Dome. The weather has been gloomy with predictions for more gloom to come. I force myself to go outside despite it. Last night, I began reviving our garden. This morning, I visited neighbors Patsy and Richard before I took a hike and then drove to Ann’s Greenhouses.
As I was coming back from the hike, our neighbor, the other Richard, paused on his way to work. He asked me to tell you that he bought a sawmill and that he is trying to build a hydrogen generator. He wondered if you had a diesel generator laying around here that he could tinker with. He told me he had promised to play in three bands at the Anderson Bluegrass Festival this weekend, but he blew it off, opting instead to work on his roof and log in some over-time at the cabinetry shop.
Patsy and Richard No. 1 are back from Minnesota, where it was muggy, after visiting Patsy’s 80-year-old aunt. They turned down my hiking invitation but we had a nice visit. They had a fire going. Patsy and I have something in common. We both like novels set in the Old South.
I bought some red lettuce and kohlrabi to replace the broccoli and cauliflower that were eaten by the bunnies. I had to look up kohlrabi on the Internet. It’s sort of like cabbage and tastes good with curry. The greenhouse lady said not to bother replacing the broccoli and cauliflower. It’s too late in the season.
The first night of your absence, I took the laptop to bed. I ate popcorn and watched Charlie Rose on tv. I wrapped myself in a cocoon of covers. The next night, I went to an outdoor concert. It’s halfway through your trip, and I have run out of distractions. I am consoling myself with ice cream. I miss you. Come home before I get too fat.
Your devoted fiance,
P.S. The baby going to sleep without a peep was a one-night thing because tonight she howled.
P.S.S. The battery bank is at 80 percent. Do you suppose I should forgo tv and lights this week?